To Kiss a Texan

THIRTEEN

ALLIE WAS STILL HALF ASLEEP WHEN SHE FELT WES’Swarm mouth move over hers. His lips seemed hesitant, unlike the man, who was always so sure of himself. There was something warm and caring in his action. His hesitancy made him human and somehow declared her an equal.

She circled her arms around his neck as he pulled her atop his chest with a mighty hug.

Slowly, one sense at a time, she came awake. The smells of the barn blended with the warm protective aroma of Wes so close. The wind rattled boards on the roof, and the horses shifted in their stalls. Wes whispered her name so low she wasn’t sure she hadn’t read his thoughts. Widening shafts of pinwheel light reflected off the walls from the lamp below, while she rode the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The kiss continued, a part of her, a part of him, a part of the night.

She’d seen people embrace and kiss, but she never dreamed it would be such a pleasant sensation. His arms encircled her with a sense of homecoming, making her feel treasured. He’d always been protective and kind, even when grumpy, but she would never have guessed he wanted to give her such a gift.

He rolled to his side, moving her with him. ‘‘Don’t let me kiss you because you’re afraid,’’ he whispered.‘‘And you don’t have to for any other reason besides you want to. Nothing will change between us. Just say ‘no’ and I’ll stop if you don’t want this between us. I just thought since you kissed me, I’d kiss you back.’’

He brushed her hair with his hand as he spoke, telling her he didn’t want even a kiss out of fear or gratitude. He wanted it to be something they gave one another, not something he took.

Allie understood him better than he thought. She also had been alone and wondered what it would be like to have someone by her side. Someone she wasn’t afraid would hurt her. Someone who could share the warmth of a blanket and a touch.

‘‘But if you’ve no objections, kissing you did feel grand,’’ he whispered.

She leaned against him, brushed her lips over his mouth once more, and felt him groan as he finished the kiss she started.

His hand moved through her hair to her shoulders with an awkwardness of need. If he were in pain from her kiss, he wasn’t stopping the action. He moaned again as she opened her mouth.

Allie felt a warmth spread all the way to her toes, just as it had when she’d drank his coffee. Only this taste was sweet. His kiss made her feel like she was floating, with only the light brush of his hands keeping her from rising to the roof.

She’d never dreamed such a hard, scarred man would touch her so lightly, so warmly. Her skin warmed beneath his care as he moved his hands over her shoulders and along her arms. The lace strap of her undergarments followed his fingers to her arm. When he moved his hands back to her throat, he returned the thin strap to its place.

The simple action touched her deeply. She sensed a respect in his touch. He was not handling her, or feeling her, he was caressing her with the tips of his fingers. She relaxed, enjoying the feelings washing over her.

He pulled away, watching her in the dim light. ‘‘Are you all right?’’ he asked, a hint of worry in his low voice.

‘‘Again,’’ she answered, wanting to feel the warmth pass through her body.

He gently cupped her face in his hand. She liked the way his fingers, rough from work, brushed her skin so lightly.

Stretching, she rolled onto her back with her arms at her sides. Waiting. If this was to be their last night together, she would feel his lips again and remember.

But he didn’t kiss her again. He let his thumb leave her cheek and pass lightly back and forth across her slightly swollen lips.

‘‘You taste so good,’’ he whispered without drawing nearer. ‘‘The fullness of your mouth…’’ He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. The movement of his thumb told her of his pleasure.

Arching her head back, she parted her lips in invitation. It seemed madness for him to wait, but the waiting made her want the kiss more.

His thumb passed over her open mouth as he moved closer, pressing the length of his body against her side. When he glanced down, her gaze followed. The pressure of his chest resting against her ribs had increased the swell of her breast. Lace strained across her soft flesh.

When she looked back up, she felt the heat of his gaze and saw that his brown eyes were almost black.

She didn’t move as he raised his hand and slipped two fingers beneath the thin strap of her undergarment. The fingers pulled the material slightly as he lifted the strap over her shoulder to hang at her arm.

She glanced down again, noticing the material had slipped a little so that now the cotton barely covered her breasts. Expecting him to push the material further, she waited. She felt his warm breath against her throat as he watched the rise and fall of lace with each of her rapid intakes of air.

Closing her eyes, she fought down the fear and the embarrassment of him looking at her so closely. Something deep inside her told her he’d stop if she asked. He’d roll away and never touch her or look at her again. But if she asked him to stop, she’d never feel the warmth of his kiss again. And she wanted that heat once more before they parted.

‘‘Put it back,’’ she whispered near his ear in a gentle demand.

Wes studied her with one eyebrow raised. ‘‘What?’’ he said as if he heard, but couldn’t believe her words.

‘‘Put it back,’’ she repeated. If she were to live without fear of this man, it must start now. She had to set the limits.

In slow motion he used the same two fingers to return the strap to its place. He dragged his hand free of the strap, letting his fingertips trail along the lace. ‘‘Are you still waiting for me to kiss you again? Or have you changed your mind?’’

‘‘Again,’’ she answered with a sudden shiver as his fingers moved across the lace at the top of one breast and dipped slightly beneath the material in the valley.

He might allow her to set the limits of their closeness, but he made it plain he planned to test the boundary.

When she didn’t protest, he trailed lightly back up to the lace and moved across the exposed flesh of the breast closest to him. His touch caressed once more, cherished.

‘‘Again,’’ she whispered as his body leaned over her. ‘‘Kiss me again.’’

He didn’t lower his mouth to hers, but slid his hand behind her neck and raised her head to meet his kiss with a sudden urgency.

He’d made her ask twice. It was time to give her fully what she wanted.

Her body jerked with the sudden contact of his mouth on her lips, but she didn’t pull away. His mouth covered hers, and she felt the warmth begin to spread through her once more. As he kissed her, the warmth turned to fire, pulsing through her like heated blood. His mouth was tender and demanding, fulfilling the promise she’d hoped for. She was lost in the sensations flooding her as he made the kiss far more than she’d expected. He was tasting her, drinking her in. And in return, giving her a perception of a passion within her she’d never known.

Then it was over, and he lowered her head back against the blanket. His hand brushed her hair into place.

Allie felt a sudden coldness in the barn that hadn’t been there before. She’d been floating, and he’d brought her back to ground with a thud. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find Wes sitting.

When she reached to touch his back, he moved so suddenly that hay flew around him. He was on his feet, pacing. His lean body reminded her of a wildcat caught in a confined space.

She watched him for a while, trying to understand. His breath was coming in rapid heaves, as if he’d been running for miles. He dug his fingers through his hair as though he could root out his own thoughts. Something bothered him deeply, but she couldn’t imagine what, unless he’d disliked the kiss as much as she’d enjoyed it.

Allie sat up and tucked her knees up to her chin. At first she reasoned she might have hurt him, but she hadn’t done anything. He’d been the one who kissed her. Then she decided that he must have hated kissing her. But that reasoning didn’t hold water, because he sure took his time doing something he hated.

Finally he stopped pacing and looked at her. His tall shadow was a little frightening but she forced herself to remember he was the one showing all the signs of hurting.

‘‘I…’’ He paced another crossing. ‘‘I didn’t mean for…’’

Allie put her elbows on her knees and held her chin. Trying to figure out this madman was giving her a headache. One moment he could make her feel all warm and wonderful, as if she were in a trance, and the next he tortured her with his pacing.

‘‘Stand up!’’ he demanded. ‘‘I mean, would you please stand up, Allie? I can’t talk to you while you’re on that blanket.’’

She followed his order.

Wes faced her. ‘‘You’re no bigger than a half-grown pup.’’ His words were gruff but more mumbled to himself than aimed at her.

She tilted her head slightly, hoping the angle might make him or his words appear clearer. He was definitely angry about something.

‘‘You’re too short to even dance with,’’ he added. ‘‘Not that I do a lot of dancing. I mean a man likes a woman he can look in the eyes. Not at the top of her head.’’

He paced again, like a rope twisted too tightly in one direction and then the other. ‘‘I’ve never liked brown hair, either. Now blonde, or black, that’s something. But brown. The color of dirt.’’

Allie took a deep breath. She saw no point to his words, for she could do nothing about her height, or hair. Her mind, however, was starting to circle to the beat of his pacing.

He was back suddenly, standing only a few inches from her. ‘‘I’m not promising you anything other than what I have. I want you to understand that. I’m leaving you with your grandmother tomorrow, if she is your grandmother. That kiss means nothing more than a kiss…’’

His voice lowered. ‘‘But damn, Allie, that was the best kiss…’’

Allie suddenly understood. She placed her hands on his face and pulled him to where she could see his eyes.

‘‘Again,’’ she whispered as she raised to her toes and touched his mouth. ‘‘If you don’t mind too much, kiss me again.’’

Wes lifted her off the floor. She could feel his arms around her, holding her in the air while his heart pounded against her chest and his mouth moved over hers. She was no longer cold as once more the fire passed through her.

If the kiss was causing him pain, he showed no sign. When he finally lowered her feet to the floor, her head was spinning from rivers of sensations running in her blood.

His arm slid from her back to her knees, and he lifted her up. He carried her the few feet to the blankets and lowered her.

‘‘Again,’’ she whispered without opening her eyes.

Wes laughed. ‘‘Maybe one more time.’’

The creak of the door broke into his words. In one fluid motion, he pulled the blanket over her and reached for his gun, the kiss forgotten as instinct took over.

Allie wrapped the wool around her as he crawled to the edge of the loft.

After a few silent moments, the sound of someone sobbing drifted up to them.

She recognized the sound before Wes did and was halfway down the ladder when he thought to follow. As they reached the bottom, Wes put his gun away when he saw the boy from the hotel.

Jason was huddled in the darkness between two empty stalls. His head rested on his knees and his arms were wrapped tightly around him as if to shut out the world.

Allie knelt at his side and touched his shoulder.

The boy’s head jerked up at her touch. For a moment, his face was filled with fear and anger.

‘‘I wasn’t crying!’’ he shouted. ‘‘I’m too old to cry. So don’t go telling folks I was, or I’ll call you a liar.’’

Wes squatted down in front of them. ‘‘I wouldn’t want to be called a liar, son.’’

‘‘I ain’t your son.’’ Black-and-blue swelling had almost completely closed his left eye.

‘‘Who did that?’’ Wes pointed with his thumb to the boy’s face.

‘‘No one did nothing,’’ Jason answered. ‘‘I’m just fine. I ain’t complaining.’’

Wes didn’t have to ask more. He knew the times all too well. After the war, there were kids like Jason in every town. Their dads probably died fighting and their mothers worked themselves to death or starved. The kids were left to fend for themselves.

‘‘Do you have any folks anywhere?’’ Wes mentally figured up what it would cost to put Jason on a stage to his brother Daniel’s place. Dan would find someone to take him in.

‘‘No,’’ Jason answered. ‘‘And I don’t-’’

He stopped as Allie reached out and took his hand in hers. ‘‘He is of my tribe,’’ she said calmly. ‘‘He goes with me.’’

Wes opened his mouth to say that he was the one taking care of her. How could she take care of a boy? But the question seemed pointless.

He stood and paced. First he has a wife he didn’t want and now she has a boy. The treasure was moving further and further away; he could feel it. Even if this Victoria Catlin was Allie’s grandmother, there was no guarantee she would want Allie. Or that she was sane. Or that she was able to take care of herself, much less Allie and a boy.

He’d just have to ‘‘lay down the law’’ to Allie. That was it. She couldn’t go telling him this boy was of her tribe. She didn’t even have a tribe, and, for all he knew, she didn’t even have a grandmother.

But when he turned to have his say, Allie was doctoring the boy’s eye. She’d wrapped her blanket around him.

The boy looked up at Wes with a knowing look of what was to come. He was too old to believe in miracles. He knew Wes wouldn’t take him along.

Wes drew in a long breath. ‘‘We leave at nine,’’ he said, as if it had been his planned speech all along. ‘‘If you’re going with us, be ready.’’

Jason watched them closely as Allie and Wes moved back up the ladder. The boy was too shocked to answer until they were in the loft.

‘‘I’ll be ready!’’ he called from below.

‘‘Good,’’ Wes answered as he circled his arm around Allie’s waist. But his mind was no longer on the boy or on leaving in the morning.

‘‘One more kiss,’’ Allie whispered.

‘‘If you insist.’’